


The artist

by Heloflor



Category: 18th Century CE RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22100515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heloflor/pseuds/Heloflor
Summary: While looking for papers her husband asked for, Elizabeth discovers that writings are not the only thing Alexander keeps in his office.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens (past)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 110





	The artist

**Author's Note:**

> The characters are based on the historical look, not on the musical (which is why Hamilton is told to have curly hair for example). Also I have no idea how to write the way these people used to so don't be surprised if I write with a mix of old and new slangs.

_Betsey, dearest, there are some papers in my office that I will need in a few hours, but I am afraid to be too taken by time to care for it now. Could you find it for me ? It shall be on my desk._

It has been almost four hours since Alexander left, and Elizabeth knew he would be back soon. Now that she was done with most of her chores, and with the children in need of nothing, it was time to find these papers.

The office was the usual mess that Betsey had come to accept : papers scattered everywhere, on and around the desk, with also a few papers laying around in the rest of the room. Most of these few pages laying around were, as her husband put it, either unimportant or filled with outdated information. Approaching her husband's desk, Betsey started to look through the more prominent writings. _Surely something important for today must be easy to see through the rest._ , she hoped. Unfortunately, nothing came close to the description Alexander gave her. Hoping to avoid wasting an hour on this, she started to look for any other obvious place to put work.

Her gaze quickly fell on a display cabinet full of books and papers, and she quickly started taking each pile of writings one by one. To her delight, the papers were sorted with each pile containing a different topic, from Alexander's law studies to his politics to a few of his correspondences, including hers. After some unsuccessful rummaging, her eyes were set upon a drawing, laying atop a small pile. Said drawing was one of a flower, a pretty common one, although it didn't stop Betsy form admiring it. It was simply exquisite with every single detail visible, to the point where she could almost feel the softness of the petals as she traced the lines with her finger.

Looking back at the pile, she was delighted to see the next page being a drawing as well and, her task forgotten, she took the entire pile and sat at Alexander's desk, taking her time with each piece to admire this work of art. _Who drew this ?_ The question kept floating in her mind. She knew her husband wasn't an artist. After all, she never saw him draw and knew that a man like him would have boasted about such skills the moment he started courting her.

As she kept admiring the art, she noticed that the pages seemed to be in an order. The drawings were, at first, pretty simple with most being plants, trees or flowers. Then, she found her hands full of different animals, from a worm to a rabbit, all as well drawn as the others.

Betsey started to find herself as excited as a child wondering what each new drawing would display. But suddenly, as she flipped to the next page, she came to a stop. The drawing now in her hands was one of a man wearing the uniform of the Continental Army, hunched over a table full of papers and writing something. But the way he was standing, the way he was holding his quill, the concentration on his freckled face as a few curly strands fell from his queue, it felt all too familiar, and it barely took a moment for Betsey to know why : It was a drawing of her husband during the war.

Trying not to let the drawing disconcert her too much, she quickly took the next one, only to be met again with a portrayal of Alexander. This time, he was lying on a bed, wrapped under the covers, with a candle on a table nearby giving light to the expression of deep fondness he was showing to the artist. _No wonder Alexander decided to keep those among his important writings._ Though the thought of someone drawing her husband in such domestic situations made her feel uneasy, she tried not to read too much into it and simply enjoy the beauty of the art. _But who in the world made them ?_

Betsey kept going through the pile, the pages now all displaying Alexander in different situations : him sleeping under a tree; posing with a sword; enjoying the warmth of a fireplace; or even one showing him play cards with another soldier. She had to admit, she was impressed by the ability of the artist to draw Alexander in such a precise and perfect way. Every trait, every line had a part in the bigger picture, portraying his every proportions with every curve, every strand of hair, every expression crossing his face at the moment.

Putting away yet another drawing of him, her eyes widened at the view of the next one, and she couldn't help but gasp. It showed Alexander emerging from what seemed to be a river, water splashing everywhere around him as he was standing with his head towards the sky and his hands on his loose hair. But what shocked her was his body, his nude body, drawn in the most precise way. Of course, she knew that the conditions of the war forced the soldiers to loose some intimacy, but the way she could recognize that it was her husband's body with a single glance deepened her uneasiness. _Maybe whoever drew this had a talent with proportions ?_ , she tried to rationalize. _But is it possible to be so precise while drawing such a short moment ? Or maybe...No._ , she shook her head. _Alexander would never let another man see him naked for other moments than when necessary. He would never commit the sin of having intimacies with a man. Besides, who is to say that it was made by a man ?_ , she tried to reason. _After all, Alexander never hid his liking towards other women._ _Maybe one of the servants was an admirer who used her free time trying to gain his favors. And given this art...it seems she managed to get it..._

Sighing, Betsey put the page and looked at the last one, bracing herself for what she may see. But, if this one surprised her, it was a different kind of unexpected. _Is that...?_ Alexander was yet again depicted, this time peacefully sleeping on a sofa, but his head was on someone else's shoulder. It was a man, wearing the same uniform as her husband, sitting with paper and pencil in his hands; the paper showing a few drafts; and glancing at the sleeping man with an air of deep fondness. _So this must be our artist..._ She tried to put a name on the man's face, she met a lot of Alexander's friends after all, but none came to mind. Whoever that man was, she never met him.

Resigned, she put the drawing on her husband's desk with the others and looked at the wider ensemble. She started to wonder if the artist made more of them after the war and if he would be willing to offer them. Especially, she wondered if he had more of Alexander, though at the same time, looking at the river one, a part of her couldn't help but hope that he didn't and feel better at the thought of that man staying away from her husband.

Suddenly, Betsey heard the door of the office open, revealing her husband.

“Betsey, my angel, have you found what I asked ?”, of course his work was still highly on his mind.

“I am afraid I have not.”, she replied, wanting to slap herself for forgetting. Alexander was always working so much, and relieve him of small tasks that took some of his precious time has always been something Betsey was happily willing to do.

“Is it not on the desk ? Have you tried to look inside the display cabinet ?”, while his tone was hurried, he looked mostly confused and his gaze was soft, making Betsey know that he wasn't angry about it.

“I did.”, she answered, taking one of the drawings and showing him. “But I am afraid I have gotten distracted by something else in it.”

Alexander's eyes widened at the view of the paper and, before his wife could react, he snatched it from her hands and quickly went to his desk, stopping short at the view of the scattered drawings.

“Alexander ?”, his lack of response and movement, along with his expression, made Betsey start to deeply worry. _I should not have touched his belongings like that._ , she scolded herself. _But what is done is done. And who knows, maybe talking about these drawings will make him feel better about...whatever is upsetting him with them ?_

“Where did you find these ?”, he finally asked as he started to grab the pages.

“The display cabinet ? I have to say,”, she said, trying to light up the mood. “I am surprised you never showed me those. They truly are beautiful !”, he didn't respond, which was enough for her to know he wasn't listening. Instead, he was arranging the papers back into a pile, seemingly in the same order as before. And, each time he glanced at a page, Betsey could see sadness flash through his eyes. “Alexander ?”, she called again.

“You shouldn't have touched those.”, he accused. His papers now orderly and against his chest, he seemed to relax.

“Why not ?”

“I just...”, he remained silent, clearly thinking about his words, which worried Betsey. Alexander never thought much before speaking, especially for such trivial things. “There are some things that I would rather...keep to myself. Without you having to even touch them.”

“...I see.”, she wasn't convinced in the slightest. _Are they not simply drawings ?...Well, aside from one I suppose._ “May I at least know who drew them ?”

“Oh ! Well, there were made by John, back when we were fighting in the war.”

“John ?...Oh you mean your friend Laurens ?”

“Yes.”, there was a hint of sadness in his voice.

“You never told me he was an artist.”, she tried to divert, hoping to cheer him up.

“Well, he sure was a man of many talents.”, he replied while fondly gazing at the drawings still in his hands. This let Betsey to have a certain page in mind and, knowing the strong bond her husband had with the richer man, she felt a knot form in her stomach. She tried to ignore it, reminding herself that of course men would be closer while facing dire situations together, but the thought of the drawing refused to leave her mind.

“I suppose...but I must say I am...surprised by one of them.”, she tried to reach out for the pile but Alexander stepped away, firmly holding it against his chest.

“Which one ?”, he quickly asked with an apologetic look.

“The one...showcasing you in a river.”

“...Oh !”, he picked up the second-to-last one; _Does he know the order by heart ? Or maybe he considers this one as different as much as I do..._ ; and let out a chuckle. “Yes, I suppose such a display would unsettle a lady such as yours.

“How was it made ?”, she couldn't help but frown, though it went unnoticed by her husband.

“It was when we set our camp near the Raritan, while we were allowed some time and decided to refresh ourselves.”, Alexander turned towards his wife with a sly smile. “John sure managed to capture what was important.”, he said, waggling his eyebrows. Betsey wasn't smiling.

“How did he manage to draw you like that ? I mean...”, with Alexander stepping away when she tried to reach out, she contented herself to wave at the page. “the moment was brief, was it not ? So how did he manage to portray your...body, so perfectly ?”

Alexander turned away. “Well, as you implied it yourself, he is a wonderful artist.” _Is..._ , she felt a pang of sadness, remembering the grief her husband went through after learning the dreadful news. And seeing now the way he was turning his back on her, surely wishing to hide his sadness, she deeply hoped this talk wouldn't shake him too much. “Besides,”, he continued, still not looking at her. “when you share a tent or even a bed with someone, you have to give up on some intimacy. This, coupled with good memory and anatomy skills, get you to such a capture of an instant. And it was far from being his only skill !”, Betsey suddenly found herself trying not to laugh, knowing the tirade that was to come. Alexander always tended to do that whenever he would speak of the war. Whatever the story he was telling, it always came back to him speaking of Laurens' virtues. “I mean, have you seen these ? He is able to draw plants as still when confronted with the hardest winds, to find the perfect pose to depict wild animals running away, to represent every little shade of light in a room lit by a single candle, and even to make the reverse image of a mirror ! And le-”

“A mirror ?”, she didn't like interrupting her husband but she knew she would be stuck here all day were she to let him keep going. Besides, she was truly starting to get curious.

Alexander nodded, showing the last drawing of the pile, the one about him sleeping on a man's shoulder. “It was early in the morning and we were waiting for a meeting. I may have fallen asleep.”, he laughed awkwardly. “And there was a mirror not too far from us.”, he looked at the piece of art with a fond smile. “John made good use of it.”, he whispered.

“So this _is_ Laurens ?”, Betsey asked, trying to get a good view of the page without making her husband cower again.

“Indeed.”, he replied. “Such a handsome man, is he not ?”, he proudly asked while showing her the drawing.

“He is.”, she replied without much spirit. She could tell he wasn't listening anyways. Whenever Laurens was on his mind, Betsey knew her husband would get lost into his own world.

“Honestly, I should have carried a piece of glass around, make him draw himself more !Although no piece of art will ever come close to portray his beauty ! But to think this is the only drawing of himself he left...”, Alexander's voice lowered as he seemed to be brought back to reality, his smile slowly faltering.

Silence fell between the couple, the air suddenly heavy, the only noise in the room being the crumpling sound from the papers Alexander started hugging again.

“...So...”, Betsey coughed awkwardly. No matter how much she hated not helping Alexander when he was upset, she learned that, when it comes to Laurens, her husband always felt better after dealing with his grief alone. “The children will probably start to wonder where I am, so I should better go downstairs. I apologize again for not finding your work.”, Alexander nodded, the only acknowledgment that he heard her. She sighed, hoping he will be in better spirits as soon as possible, and left the room.

With Betsey gone, Alexander found himself having the same thoughts over and over again. _She shouldn't have found it. It belongs to John. She tainted it ! How dare she touch it ! I never let anyone have their hands on what she offered me ! It belongs to him ! It's all I have left of him !...I should have hidden it better..._ He sighed. _Well, there is no point in dwelling on it now._

His gaze fell back on the pile he was still clutching in his arms, and he started to look at the drawings one at a time. They were always in an order, the same order. It started simple enough, showing the flora of the world, a display of the work of a talented hand, before showcasing animal patterns, the mastery of the artist shinning through each one. Then, Alexander could see himself, his eyes carrying in each page the love and adoration he felt for _him_ , and, each time, he could feel warmth in his heart seeing how, to be able to portray such emotions, John must have seen the love in Alexander's eyes, letting John know how adored he was.

After some time, he arrived at the second-to-last one, the drawing of him in a river that his wife was so quick to point out. Though, he couldn't blame her, as he himself kept it at the end of the pile since it was one of his favorites, for the same reasons Betsey seemed to deplore it. Thinking how he ended up having it make, he couldn't help but laugh at the memory. It was a hot day, sometime around the battle of Monmouth, and the army was located near the Raritan. The now-president had given his aides an hour to rest and they all decided to go refresh themselves. Alexander could remember trying to be one of the first in the water, as most aides were undressing near it, and see how long he could annoy them by throwing water before one went in and tried to drown him. But, after his first jump into the water, as he resurfaced, his Jack, who was already in, suddenly hurried out of the river, grabbing his clothes while yelling about needing pen and paper. This left everyone to laugh in confusion. The next hour, as they went back to camp, Alexander found himself look for John, only to find him finishing a new piece of art that he was trying to hide from his lover. But the delight on Alexander's face after finally grabbing the drawing was enough for John to yield, though Alexander believed that this decision was regretted, as he often used it as a way to tease the blonde.

Alexander sighed as the memories engraved in his heart left his mind for the anticipation of the last page. Since the day it was given to him, he knew he had to look at it last, or else he could never enjoy the true beauty of the others when compared to this masterpiece. The Artist, portraying himself, even showing the drawing on his knees. But one of the things that really got to Alexander was how John drew himself. No matter how precise he could be, Jack seemed to have made himself look a bit thinner and less muscular than he truly was, with much more bags under his eyes. But what pained the redhead the most about it was how his lover drew his eyes with the never-ending fire that burned through them but also with all the passion he had for the smaller man peacefully sleeping by his side. This meant that John drew himself the way he saw himself, and it pained Alexander to see the self-loathing the blonde had depicted with a body that was never perfect enough for what he believed was expected of him.

Alexander put a hand inside his coat, searching inside the pocket he had closest to his heart, and retrieved the two objects in it. There were two portraits, one depicting his wife in all her beauty and the other, the one he was interested in now, depicting his lover in all his glory. Looking back at the drawing, he couldn't help but chuckle sadly. No matter how much time and colors were put into the portrait, it will never come close to the perfection from John's own hand.

Delicately, Alexander put the drawings back in their place. He then turned towards his messy desk and sighed. “I really should have arranged it earlier.”, he grumbled.

As he started to sort it, his mind lingered back on the drawings and the thought of his Betsey finding them. _I should have hidden them better. Maybe I should buy a box ? And I should put his letters in it too. Keep it all safe and together._

At last, he found the document he was looking for, and as he exited the room, his eyes landed one last time on the display cabinet. _I need to pry them away. It is already a luck that Betsey did not question me further or saw my blush when I mentioned the Raritan. But if it were to happen again...It cannot happen again._

_They don't need to know._

_...She doesn't need to know._


End file.
